


Homecrabbing

by catalysticskies



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catalysticskies/pseuds/catalysticskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short stand-alone in which Eridan goes back to his land hive in the rainy season after a long break to see his short flushed boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecrabbing

You can feel the pressure lowering the closer you get to the surface, your ear fins testing the water, telling you the salinity and the types of bacteria and which way the currents are going, little particles floating along the underwater streams. You take a breath, pushing yourself up, your head breaking the surface, water streaming from your horns, your hair plastered to you face. You stand in the shallow water, the level at about your stomach, and the air is freezing, _fuck_ , you hate surfacing this time of sweep. Being a sea-dweller you can deal with much lower temperatures than land-dwellers, but even your high blood isn't enough to save you from the harsh chill of the wind lashing at your wet skin. You can already feel your muscles starting to flutter, your fins pressed to the sides of your face.

                                        

You wade your way to the bank, your arms hugged around yourself, the stones slippery beneath your feet. You look up the cliff to your right, your hive standing proudly on the top, and jegus, why did you have to build it all the way up there? There's a light on in one of the windows at the top, and you find the resolve to trudge up there. You know who's in your hive, he promised to stay until Ascension, even if he isn't there half the time. He got back from a perigee-long training program night before last. You haven't been on land since he left, staying in the sunken ship that was your hive-away-from-hive, visiting Feferi occasionally. The salty ocean winds whipped around your, your body protesting in shudders as you push open the door of the castle-like building, revelling in the warm air that hits you as you make your way up to your block. You can hear murmurs from the telecube. He must be watching one of his dumb movies again.

You change you clothes, not bothering to ablute the salt and dirt out of your skin, towelling your hair before you tramp to the living block. You can see the silhouette of his puffy hair and nubby horns in the light from the screen, some trashy romance crap drivelling on. You silently step behind the couch, and put your hand on his shoulder. You grin as he jumps higher than a hopbeast.

“ _FUCKING_ \- Jegus, Eridan? Don't do that you little shit, you're lucky my sickle is out of range.” You laugh, muffled where your face is buried in your scarf. He pauses the movie, shifting around and kneeling on the couch to take stock of you, his hot fingers brushing over your tight fins, pulling your scarf down. “Man, fuck, your lips are grey.”

“It's not exactly warm outside,” you say as he climbs over the back of the couch to stand in front of you, and you cough, clearing your throat. It's been a while since you spoke in the air, or even breathed. Your lungs are still clearing out the water, which you'll end up expelling later, probably in the middle of the day over the ablution trap as usual.

He kisses you, a little stinging spot where his warm lips meet yours, and you can't stop yourself from hugging him, your arms tight around his shoulders and his around your chest, and he's _hot_ , so hot you feel like it should burn, but it's pleasant heat on your skin. You don't care he's been gone for a perigee, and he doesn't care you've been gone for a perigee. He's grown a lot over the last two sweeps, but so have you, and, you think a little smugly, he still only comes up to your chest, your chin resting in his hair.

“You smell like shit,” he says into your chest, and you know you do, but you'll be damned if you concede that.

“I haven't seen you in a perigee and all you can say is that I smell? Thanks Kar, that's real touchin'.”

“Well I'm worry for stating the fact you smell like decomposing whale.”

“I love you too.”

“Shut the fuck up and help me make coffee.” You follow him to your kitchen, switching on the coffee pot while he gets cups and milk out. He makes two steaming mugs full while you lean against the bench, but you steal a mouthful of the bitter hot liquid from his cup anyway. You settle on the couch, letting him play his shitty rom-com as he sits in your lap, your fingers playing with his fluffy hair as they regain feeling. You admit you can't help brushing the bases of his horns sometimes, refraining from the tips so he can 'fucking focus on this masterpiece instead of your dumb nice hands'.

You retire to your block after the movie, undressing yourself to get in your recuperacoon, but he makes you wash yourself first, pushing you to the ablution trap. He takes his shirt off so it didn't get wet, and you sit in the bottom of the trap while he massages the cleansing fluid into your hair, leaving while you clean the rest of your body. Your hair feels fluffier and lighter than it ever does underwater, and you have to place the purple streak _just right_ before stepping back out into your room.

Karkat is already in the recuperacoon, popping his head over the rim to glare at you when you poke his horn, then he grabs your wrist and tugs you in. You climb over and settle in next to him, the slime thick around you as he nestles his face in your collarbone, warm on your bare skin. It's such a practised act, you fall into it with ease, but it still gives your blood-pusher little flutters just having the little troll there with you. You missed this.


End file.
